Loss of a Different Kind
by starshade47
Summary: Harrys' born without magic, he's also a chick. one-shot. about Harrys relationship with Vernon.


Loss of a different kind

A/N: I was feeling depressed and my moods not been so bright lately. Fem Harry, AU, and OOC. Enjoy.

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><p>What is it to lose somebody, something. What is it to feel loss?<p>

I'll tell you now, it is not a happy feeling. It feels as if a part of you had died, and you're only now finding out.

At least that's how it felt to me. Losing the only father figure I had, maybe not physically, but mentally? Emotionally?

The answer is an obvious yes.

How do I start to tell you, in a way you will understand?

The simple fact is, I cannot. But I will try.

It started on a day that could not decide if it was going to pour it's tears upon the earth, or light it up in a way that would dim any other light. So naturally it chose both.

I was sitting on the couch, watching something on the Telly, a documentary I believe, called 'Fat Head' with Dudley my brother . Our neighbor , Mrs. White, had walked in to gossip with my mum.

When my 'Dad' was suddenly in front of me with the remote, the TV had been turned off. He's looking straight at me with what I suppose he thought was a stern look, it was the look of a memory I had, it was not a happy one.

"And what do you think you're doing?" He asked in a exasperated tone. Vernon Dursley had never really liked me, I was not his, so I was scum at the bottom of his shoe.

The only reason he treated me alright in the beginning, was because of his wife Petunia, my aunt. Later Dudley helped keep Vernon in check.

I sit there at a loss as to what he is referring to. I stare at him in incomprehension. This seems to irritate him further.

"Get up and do the dishes now!" He says in a forceful way. "When you're _Mother_ tells you something you better do it!" the way he stressed the word mother was angering, even though he didn't yell it, it was, in a way, worse than the yelling.

I open my mouth to ask him to elaborate, when I'm beat to it by my mum "What are you talking about?" she asks, defending me, but only slightly.

She goes against him most of the time when it came to his cruelty towards me. Except for when it was something minor, like this.

Her words are lost in confusion, as the TV blares on, and everyone tries talking at once, I seem to be the only one that heard her.

Now He starts yelling things like "I don't see why I have to put up with his attitude!" and "I should just take my check away from that ungrateful brat!"

By this time I have entered the brightly colored kitchen, a glass of water in my hand. I listen to him yell, I slowly sip at my water, bitter. Mrs. White I presume left around this time.

I catch a snip of what he says from the end of the sentence "...And he's _still_ not doing them." From this I deduct he is talking about me.

I start to put them away, seeing as how the dishwasher is full, and pause. I need music to drown out his ugly words. I walk into my room, I realize I am gentle now with handling things, I wonder why but don't ponder it to much.

I walk back and start to do the dishes. A thought strikes me as I do them, still ever so gently, He was probably smug right now, thinking he had won.

In that instant I felt it, I did not know what it was then, now I do. What I felt then was loss. I hated him right then, yes, _**Hated**_ him. I had lost a father I could have had, I had lost that innocence that comes from, for lack of a better term, 'no hate'. I had lost an idea, a dream. I snapped.

I started to feel the tears come on, I walked to my room door and opened it. On the floor was a towel, I picked it up and pushed it against my face, and started to cry.

My crying soon escalated into sobs, which I tried to stifle, lest anyone hear me.

I needed something to cover my face, something that would make sure you couldn't see it. I would not give Him the pleasure.

I found what I was looking for in a straw hat that I had claimed as my own, since my brother never wore it.

I walked back out into the kitchen, feeling depressed, like I was trapped in a glass case with no air holes.

I continued doing the dishes. My mum walked over and asked "Do you want to continue watching the documentary with Duddums?"

"No thank you" I half mumbled, afraid she would hear the tears in my voice. "What?" she said leaning closer. I just shook my head no, no longer trusting my voice. "Ok" and she just walked away.

I watched my hands tremble slightly with every dish I put in the dishwasher, I was close to finishing.

He walked out the door to the backyard.

I looked up because something told me someone was there. It still came as a startle when I looked up to see my mum standing there, watching me.

"I don't know why he turned into such an ass lately." She said to me in an annoyed voice, it was underlined with a tiredness though. I shrug, not really knowing what to say.

"So how was your day at school" she asked obviously, now anyways, trying to change the subject. "He has a girlfriend..." My voice sounded broken, and sad, and _weak_ to my own ears. Makes me wonder what it sounded like to her.

I couldn't pretend anymore, I started crying. "Are you sad because the boy you like?" It was such a stupid question, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and as I was already crying I started to sob, shaking my head 'no'.

"Is it because of Dad?" Her voice sounded blank. I nodded. Still muffling sobs. "what did he do to make you feel this way?" At that moment I was confused by her question, why did she even need to ask?

"He did it in front of Dud..." What I was trying to say couldn't be put into words right then, I hadn't expected to need them. She was my mum after all, she should have known. At least that's what my mind was telling me then.

"I know, he did it in front of Mrs. White." She sounded kinda pissed off now.

He walked back into the house again, and walked on, talking and acting like nothing had happened. It was wrong, but I had already muffled my sobs, suppressed them. I would say no more.

I looked down at my hands, still gentle, and I realized why I was being so gentle. Because I was afraid if I made noise to loud, or broke anything, I would fall to pieces, that I would break.

When I was done, I went back into my room and stayed there awhile. And I understand that all I had needed was a hug at that moment, and it would've been better.

But it wasn't better, and now there'd be a hole in that place in my heart that was meant for my 'Dad'.

I know I could be worse off, believe me I know, however it was the final straw, the turning point. I would never look at Vernon Dursley the same.

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><p>Review.<p> 


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